


Masquerade Ficlet

by lucifers_left_earlobe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 03:18:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucifers_left_earlobe/pseuds/lucifers_left_earlobe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A request for Waiter!Dean and Debonair!Cas meeting at a masquerade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masquerade Ficlet

The guy in the feathered mask has ventured back to the champagne table four times this evening.

Dean normally doesn’t think too much of wealthy strangers. Hell, he normally doesn’t think too much of acquaintances of any socioeconomic background; the masked man is proving an anomaly. It must be something about his choice in dress: a simple, black suit with a deep blue shirt, and the feathery, almost angelic mask. It could also have something to do with the way he keeps eyeing Dean from across the room.

Regardless, the stranger is good looking and giving him bedroom eyes, so who is Dean to bat an eye and call it a day?

He finishes his rounds collecting America’s finest’ plates and displaying false smiles as elderly women tell him what a ‘tragic case’ he is for helping Sammy through university. Dean hates these types of events; he’s always guaranteed to be subtly slipped a hundred and asked to come out back for a moment. He’s always told how ‘heartbroken’ these rich bastards are when he tells them the vaguest thing about himself. He’s always patronized by some twenty-something guy for being ‘soft on the eyes’.

The truth is Dean is tired of these sorts of things. He’s been tired for a while. And if a masked stranger isn’t going to come onto him, but rather opt for mere observation, then so be it. He makes his rounds to the teenage tables, which, surprise, are filled to the brim with seventeen year olds sucking face like it’s going out of style.

He quickly spins on his heel and heads in the opposite direction, only to spot the handsome feathery guy again. This time, the man walks straight toward him as though some strange determined impetus has driven him forward.

The man stops right in front of him, giving Dean about six inches of personal space. He can feel the guy’s breath against his chin with every passing exhale.

“Uh, is there anything you needed?” Dean asks, keeping his tone as cautious as he can manage. He can feel himself leaning into the man, and he catches himself just before their noses brush. The guy doesn’t seem to mind; his eyes are directed straight to Dean’s lips.

“No, not particularly,” he mutters. Holy shit, Batman; that’s a deep voice. Those eyes shift from Dean’s lips to his eyes and they are surprisingly… beautiful. They are this odd shade of blue that looks like the reflection of sunlight dancing atop the Pacific waves. No, that doesn’t do them justice. They’re just really pretty, okay?

“I… I, uh, don’t know what to…” Dean trails off, finding that it’s now himself that can’t tear his eyes away from the stranger’s lips. “What is it you need?”

A warm hand presses into his and Dean is jerked out of his daze. He quickly pulls away, the heated blush making its home Dean’s face. He frowns as the man’s head tilts in an almost childlike fashion.

“I don’t take pay for sex.”

“I never asked if you did.”

“Y-you were going to,” Dean stammers, his eyes glued to the floor. He takes several steps back and bumps into a table, which of course causes him to blush even harder. Damn, he’s got to work on clenching that reaction.

“No, I wasn’t.” The stranger steps forward once more, lifting his hand to his face. He pulls off the ridiculously white feathered mask and… whoa. The man is incredibly handsome, albeit disheveled. There is light stubble dusted across his chin. His skin is as near to flawless as it can get, though there are some shallow crow’s feet adorning his eyes. But those eyes; Dean thought he had been stunned when he saw them behind the mask.

Those eyes are the deepest, most pure shade of blue Dean thinks he has ever seen. They bring up memories of summer, of impending thunderstorms, of a twilight sky. They appear to be almost glowing in the faint lighting of the room, though that may just be Dean’s imagination. Dean swallows and tears his eyes away from the handsome man’s face. When he does, he finds that the guy was holding out a hand to him. An offering.

Dean tentatively wraps his fingers around the warm, calloused hand of the stranger. He peeks back up to find the man grinning.

“I’m Castiel.”

“Dean.”

Castiel’s, Cas’s, grin grows wide and he pulls his hand away after letting it linger. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and shifts his eyes to the floor. If Dean didn’t know any better, he’d say that was a blush crossing the man’s cheeks. In a blink, he turns his eyes back on Dean with a genuine grin.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dean.”


End file.
